


Bridal Carry

by Redrikki



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Prosthesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 22:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15423507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrikki/pseuds/Redrikki
Summary: On Naboo, it's tradition for the groom to carry the bride to their marriage bed. With Anakin's new prosthetic, it's more difficult than it sounds.





	Bridal Carry

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hurt/comfort bingo prompt "amputation" and an anonymous tumblr prompt asking for Anakin to have trouble with the bridal carry.

They stood together as husband and wife and watched the sun set over the lake while Threepio saw the priest out. It was like something out of painting. The evening birds sang their farewells as the fading light dyed the clouds pink and burnished the water to a golden shine. It was so peaceful it was hard to believe the galaxy was at war. Padmé could have forgotten it altogether if it wasn’t for the metal fingers twinned with her own. 

Padmé looked down at their joined hands. The dying sun stained the prosthetic a bloody red. She shuddered at the sight of it. He had lost his arm, he’d very nearly lost his life, before they’d had a chance to do more than kiss. The war had just begun and tomorrow he was headed back to it. Her mother would say she was rushing things, but they couldn’t move fast enough when the next day might be his last. Padmé would rather be his widow than have no claim on him at all.

He was her’s now. She tightened her grip on his hand, but he didn’t seem to notice. Diminished sensitivity. It was a common problem, even with high-end prosthetics. “Come,” Padmé said, and led him away as the sun dropped bellow the waves. 

Giddy as a schoolgirl, Padmé tugged her husband along to their marriage bed. Her husband. The whole thing was her idea, but she still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. Anakin, the sweet, brave, odd little boy from the Tatooine junk shop was her husband. Mother of moons, how had he grown up so pretty? 

She brought them to a halt just outside the bedroom. The bed lay open and inviting over her shoulder. Anakin moved to go in, but she stopped him with a hand against his chest. He frowned in worried confusion. “Did I—is something wrong?”

“On Naboo, the groom carries the bride to the marriage bed.” Sola’s husband had trained for months to make sure he was up for it. Anakin should have no problem. 

“Oh,” he laughed and swept her off her feet and into his arms.

They made it five steps before it became clear this wasn’t going to work. Sweat broke out across his brow as his face drained of color. His arms began to tremble. The prosthetic could take her weight, but the still-healing stump it was attached to couldn’t. He closed is eyes, gritted his teeth, and made himself keep going.

“Put me down!” Padmé said so sharply he nearly dropped her in his haste to obey, but she couldn’t let him go a step further. She wasn’t going to let him cripple himself for a silly tradition. 

“But—I—” He looked at her with desperate eyes. “Just give me a minute. I can still carry you.” Did he think she would divorce him if he couldn’t? He was deliciously eager to please. 

It seemed cruel not to let him. “Ani, the bride is carried over the shoulder,” she lied. He should be able to manage that. 

“Oh,” he said, relieved, and bent to hoist her up. 

Padmé let out a small grunt as her stomach met his shoulder. It was undignified, but better she look silly than Anakin be in pain. “Onward, noble steed. To the bed!” she commanded and gave his butt a playful swat. 

In all her youthful imaginings, this wasn’t how she’d pictured her wedding at all. The marriage of a former queen and current galactic senator should be a very solemn, very dignified, very public occasion. Marrying a Jedi in secret was, well, it was crazy, but it was also very fun. Padmé laughed as Anakin dumped her on the bed and again as he flopped down beside her. She planted a proprietary kiss. She wouldn’t trade him for the biggest, fanciest, most traditional wedding in the galaxy. 

How did it stack up to Anakin’s imaginings she wondered. “Are there any traditions from Tatooine you want to observe?” she asked, feeling a little guilty she hadn’t offered before. Hopefully it wasn’t anything they had to get out of bed for. 

“We’re already following it,” he said with a rueful laugh. “Slaves always marry in secret.”

It was a disturbing thought, but Anakin soon drove it from her mind. His new hand may have diminished sensitivity, but it certainly felt good.


End file.
